History's repeat
Summary: It's the year 2004, and Weldon Academy had gone through some serious changes. For instance, it is no longer called an Academy, but rather it is a private school. Another example is that it is for boys only no longer. The rules are still on place.
Christine Hatcheson, more commonly known as Chris, is an eerie look-alike to Neil Perry, the leader of the last Dead Poets Society, which was disbanded after Neil's suicide. When Chris discovers an old book, 'Five Centuries of Verse', she heads the newest Society. With Chris as its unofficial leader, the history of the last Society is about to repeat itself… Or will it?
Disclaimer: I don't own 'Dead Poets' or the poems. The 'Poets' belong to their creators, and most of the poems here, as well as bits and pieces of 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' belong to Robert Frost and William Shakespeare
A/N: This is something I came up with after re-reading a few stories on the DPS. As you have noticed, I moved the story into modern time, but the school life is unchanged. OH, and the story is almost complete, all I'm left is a throughout or not so proofreading
01. Hellton
"Well, here we are, Hellton."
Chris Hatcheson punches her brother, George, good-naturally.
"Shut it, George."
"What? It's been called that since…"
"1959, and it stuck." John Smith bugs in. "O-oh, here they come. Traditional escort."
The girl and boys quiet down, as a group of boys march down the aisle, bearing the standards of the Weldon Academy's slogan: Tradition, Excellence, Honor, and Discipline. Nothing changed for several decades – save one thing.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the Headmaster begins. "Boys and girls. The light of Knowledge."
The boy at the front lights a candle, and starts passing it around the crowd. Slowly, oh so slowly, the candles around the uniformed students light up. The crowd of Weldon is mixed today – both boys and girls stand in the church, as they pass the light around, their faces blank and void of emotion.
"In the year 1859, the 41 boys who sat here were asked the same question you are asked here now. Ladies and Gentlemen, what are the four pillars?"
Those in uniforms rise to their feet.
"Tradition, Honor, Excellence, and Discipline," They say, and it echoes around the walls. Chris and a few of the first-years roll their eyes to the ceiling and exchange all-knowing smirks.
The mass drags on, as the new teachers are introduced and the final speeches being made.
"Finally!" Rojer Dalton says, shrugging off his jacket. "I can't believe this ceremony dragged as long as it had!"
"Better believe it, Roj, you're about to stay here for what, next four years?" Alex Perry flops on his bed, throwing his duffel bag on the floor. His room mate groans.
"Don't remind me, Alex. I swear I'm gonna kill the next person who says that again."
"Four years, four years, four years… Ahhh!" Alex dodges a thick Chemistry book, which Rojer had sent on him earlier. "What's gotten into you?"
"Having fun boys?"
The roommates glance up, grinning as Chris and George Hatcheson join the group. Chris, short for Christine, smoothes an invisible wrinkle on her pleated skirt, and flops down next to Alex.
"How was your summer?" Nikkie Anderson asks off-handedly. She's another part of the small group of friends, formed over a brief meeting in the courtyard.
Her question is followed by a few 'fine's', groans, and good-natural chuckles until Chris announces,
"Brilliant until I got news that I'm to attend Hellton!"
This breaks the people up, and they start laughing.
"Hellton?" Amy Amaris just joins the crowd, managing to catch the last word. Amy is the owner of glasses, slightly long mousy hair, and a small, only about 5' figure.
"That's what everyone calls this place," Nikkie explains shortly. "Ohh, we're receiving our timetables tomorrow. I just hope it's not Chem first thing in the morning, I can't stand Chem as it is!"
This time, a few texts are aimed for Nikkie's head, and the girl disappears in the next room, pretending to faint.
"See ya lot tomorrow," she mocks behind the closed doors.
"We'll get you, Anderson," Alex and Chris yell in unison, as George takes a swig from the bottle of whiskey he discovered somewhere.
"Amaris. The door. Closed. Now." George points to the door. Amy winces, but shuts it without putting a latch on.
"So…" Alex grins at the crowd. "Anyone did anything unusual?"
Chris raises her hand.
"I visited the cemetery that's next to the school. They have a person isolated in there."
This catches the other folks' interest.
"Isolated? Here at Hellton? Where did you find it, sis?" George stares at his sister in amusement.
"I swear it!" Chris starts pacing the room. "He's been a part of something called 'Dead Poets Society'."
"Well, DUH!." Nikkie had snuck back in and is watching Chris with an air of amazement on her face. "Of course he'll be called that – he's dead!"
"I'll show you tomorrow," Chris says, flopping back on the bed and aiming another book at Nikkie's head. Nikkie recoils, making a sign for warding off evil while the others laugh.
"Oh, come on, Chris, it's so much better now!" Alex springs from his bed. "Where?"
"Oh, all right, let's go."
The group of seven students sneak out of the building and to the graveyard. The hinges of the metal doors creak, and they avoid it. Chris expertly vaults the fence, and the others get around it as they can – nobody wants to use the entrance at night.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain
Seven flashlights work in the dark fog, as Chris counts her followers. Alex, George, Nikkie, and Amy are there, and they lifted Ana Lee and John Smith on their way to the graveyard. Now they gather all around Chris, and Amy shivers – her uniform skirt and blazer don't make things easier for her.
"Creepy," Alex whispers softly.
The others shush him, and the group quietly rushes to the farthest end of the graveyard, barely making out the headstones. The one that had intrigued Chris is indeed separated from the rest of them, a tall marble column like the others, with a cross on the top.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,
The seven flash their lights over the headstone, lighting up a photograph of a teen.
"What's a teenager doing on the graveyard?" Amy wonders quietly.
"Well, he's dead, isn't he?" Alex reads the inscription,
"Neil Perry, born 1942 – died 1959… beloved son… "
"And look!" Nikkie points to the bottom of the engraving.
Somebody had added,
"Carpe Diem."
"Carpe Diem?" Alex wonders softly, as he looks at the photograph of the boy.
"Guys, you do realize he was seventeen when he died?" John hisses softly.
The rest stand in silence as they all watch the grave. Ana lowers some flowers she picked on the way to the graveyard and steps back.
But not to call me back, or say good-bye
"I wonder what's happened to him." Chris says thoughtfully. "Neil Perry…"
"Carpe Diem – Seize the day," John says quietly. "Maybe he did just that?"
"Why would his grave be isolated, then?" Nikkie wonders. "And what's all that about Dead Poets Society?"
"Well, look at the date," Ana says quietly. "I heard people who committed suicides during those days were buried separately from the others."
"Ana, he died well after the Second World War," Alex points out quietly. "That rite you're talking about has expired with the end of Middle Ages."
"Alex, this is Hellton we're talking about," Amy says quietly, watching at the photo. "For all we know, they're still back at those Middle Ages, just without restrictions of modern era. You know, tradition and all that shit. Probably, they still separate the suicidal ones here."
"Then why is he the only one that's separated from the others?" Nikkie thinks aloud. "If he did kill himself, surely there were the others who did the same thing here."
"Here in this world, sure, here in Hellton, I doubt it," George whispers.
"We'll find out about it," Chris says, her eyes flashing in the light. "For now, let's go. It won't do us any good if we're caught here."
The bell chimes in the night as six figures leave the graveyard and silently run back to the academy.
And further still, at the unearthly height
One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed time was neither wrong nor right.
Chris holds back. She crouches down, softly touching the headstone, thinking about life in general. Then she stands up.
"Rest in peace, Neil Perry," she whispers softly, before leaving to follow the others to the school.
I had been one acquainted with night.